


(Lum)bridge Over Troubled Water

by AceTrainerAlicia



Series: The Adventures of Jaina: A Faith Renewed [4]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceTrainerAlicia/pseuds/AceTrainerAlicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the battle between two gods threatening to ruin her hometown, she feels powerless to do anything without being forcibly conscripted into either army. Perhaps a pair of listening ears might help, and perhaps they might belong to her god's emissary... Oneshot, Soran & World Guardian-centric</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Lum)bridge Over Troubled Water

The sun was beginning to set over Lumbridge, bathing the castle and the roofs of the town buildings in a soft orange glow. There was no time to admire the view, though, not with the battle still raging on in the massive crater nearby.

It seemed that neither side had managed to get the upper hand yet—well, the gods weren’t the only ones not getting anywhere, Kara-Meir thought. No one seemed to want to listen to her, and there was no sign of their greatest hope either.

“Ma’am?” she called to a passing archer. “Have you seen a young woman with purple hair recently?”

The archer shook her head and ran off to the Zamorakian camp without another word. A wizard heading for the Saradominist camp two minutes later had much the same response.

Kara-Meir was getting to the end of her patience. It had been two weeks since the battle had started! How long were they going to have to wait?

She couldn’t help herself when the next person showed up. “Young man! Don’t you just walk past like you’re going on a picnic!” she barked.

The youth, a fairly well-built warrior with short blond hair and smoky gray eyes, nearly tripped as he turned. He turned red in the face as he spotted Kara-Meir, and quickly looked down as an indignant scowl formed on his face.

“What’s your problem, lady? And where are your clothes?”

Kara-Meir was about to make a very rude retort, but she quickly bit her lip before the words could come out. Her task was too vital to the cause to mess up because of her temper.

“I seek a young woman with purple hair. You haven’t seen her?”

“My sister?” The blond shook his head. “Not recently. I expected her to come by when she heard the news of the battle, but I haven’t seen her anywhere. I don’t know why… you’d think she’d want to help me beat up on Old Blue there.”

Kara-Meir sighed and hung her head. Well, at least this boy might be a potential lead.

“Keep an eye out for her,” she said. “If you manage to find her for me, I might only give you a slight beating for that smart remark.”

“Yes, yes, sure thing, lady,” the youth muttered, his eyes still glued to the ground as he backed away. He had no idea who that strange scary woman was supposed to be, but he was pretty sure she was completely nuts. And that she needed clothes.

He tried to shake the image of her out of his mind, mumbling “Think of the pretty elf lady, Henry” under his breath as he made his way to the family’s old house. He wasn’t going to be away from the battlefield long; he just needed to check up on the house, possibly clean it a bit, and have some dinner.

Why was she asking about his sister? Why should he tell her where she was, if he knew? Where had his sister gotten to anyway? They hadn’t done anything together since… No, he shouldn’t think about Astrid now. General Moia would have no patience for a crybaby.

A rumble in his stomach snapped him out of his thoughts, and he made his way into the house and sat down with two wild pies. It didn’t take him long to make short work of both of them; in fact he kind of wished he had brought a third.

A quick glance at the house revealed that it seemed to look fine, and it wasn’t time for cleaning yet. Slinging his sword over his back, Henry started back towards the battlefield.

As he approached the crater, he stopped short when he heard Kara-Meir’s raised voice. Peeking around a wall, he listened more closely.

“I don’t understand it. We know she is originally from Lumbridge; therefore she should have come here right away when news of the battle spread! Doesn’t she care about the fate of her hometown?” Kara-Meir sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Our cause will never gain ground if we cannot find our rightful champion!”

“We are not entirely without hope.” The voice was a man’s, though Henry couldn’t see him. “I may have had pirates pour beer on me nearly every day, but there are some passersby who have at least stopped to listen to our message. World Guardian or no World Guardian, I will make sure the voice of the Godless is heard.”

“But, Holstein, she was personally chosen by Guthix to lead our cause,” Kara-Meir said. “I want to believe she wouldn’t be so traitorous as to shirk that duty and doom this world—or even something as small as this town, for that matter. But with every day she does not present herself to us, that hope fades a little!”

“Kara, it hasn’t been long. We are still just a fledgling group,” Holstein pointed out. “Give it time. The loss of Guthix must have been hard on her. She might be confused, or worried, or busy, or just very upset. I’m sure she will come and meet with me eventually!”

Henry wasn’t entirely sure what they were going on about, but he was pretty sure they were discussing his older sister. What was all this nonsense about dooming the world and her being chosen by Guthix to lead them in whatever ridiculous scheme they were involved in? Even he wouldn’t be this crazy when he got roaring drunk.

He made a mental note to write to her later as he made his way back to the Zamorakian encampment. Even if he didn’t mention what he had overheard, he might as well tell her about the battle to see if she was coming or not. He certainly hoped she would; the look on Saradomin’s face when he was finally beaten back would be priceless, and he would hate for her to miss that moment.

Leaning against a tent pole, he sighed and closed his eyes, daydreaming about the look on Saradomin’s face and the pretty elf emissary down by Port Sarim. She had such long, soft-looking golden hair, and such a cute little smile… Maybe he should pay her a visit after writing the letter?

“Private!” Moia snapped, her sharp voice jerking Henry out of his thoughts. “Get back out there and bring back as many tears as you can! We won’t achieve victory by dawdling!”

“Y-yes, General... I’m going, I’m going.” Quickly the blond gave her a salute and rushed out onto the battlefield, brandishing his sword in both hands.

~***~

Jaina read the letter, her throat feeling dry as she did. The stupid battle was bad enough, but now the Godless faction was going to cause her grief too?

She was perfectly aware of the battle—she had heard the news when it began and had had to endure the neighbors badgering her constantly about why she wasn't fighting for Saradomin yet; she didn’t need to be reminded constantly. They were hardly the only ones, either—Ariane had asked about it, so had Xenia, Sir Owen had asked if she would be willing to lend her support to Saradomin’s side, the emissary in Falador Park had essentially demanded she do so, and the fat old man in Edgeville had said the same, albeit in regards to siding with Zamorak instead.

She had been doing a few things for the Zarosian emissary here and there, partially to get her mind off the whole thing. That was also why she had been looking into divination as well—and it did help that the druids were constructing a tribute stone to Guthix near the Falador wisp colony. She had been lending a hand with that when she could, too.

Setting the letter down, she sighed and curled up in the middle of her bed. Everything was all happening so fast… it was as though losing Guthix had caused the whole world to spiral out of control. The constant raining almost everywhere this past week—which the druids claimed was the world weeping for the loss of Guthix—was the least of her worries now.

Slowly Jaina looked up, watching the rain outside the window. No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop worrying about what was going on in Lumbridge. How was the duke dealing with the crisis? Were the people safe? Had any innocents died? Did the old house still stand? Had the nearby farmlands been so ruined that the people didn’t have enough to eat? Were the Dorgeshuun at risk as well? Perhaps all her worries boiled down to one question—did they need her help?

She had seen the outer edge of the crater, by the diviners’ camp—and she’d been unable to hold back the tears as she remembered the forest that had once been there. She had wanted so badly to return on her eighteenth birthday, and she desperately wanted to check to see that the town still stood and the people were safe—but she didn’t dare. She couldn’t return now, not with the battle raging. On the off-chance that Saradominist or Zamorakian forces didn’t spot her, then that Kara-Meir woman certainly would. None of them was going to take no for an answer, either—and it would be foolish to openly antagonize a god either way.

Oh, what was she to do? She couldn’t ignore it forever, but neither could she simply return to Lumbridge and expect not to get forcibly conscripted or blackmailed into either army or the Godless faction. Perhaps she should discuss the matter with someone… but who could she talk to about this?

She certainly couldn’t tell most possible acquaintances the real reason why she could not, would not in good conscience fight for either god, and she doubted anyone would think she was right to be just as angry at Saradomin for wrecking her hometown as Zamorak. Zanik, wherever she was, wouldn’t understand why she didn’t want to join the Godless faction—she might have joined them herself already, Jaina surmised. And her fellow Zarosians were most likely too busy preparing for his return to listen to her complaining.

The bedroom door quietly creaked open, but still Jaina did not look up until she heard a familiar growling, and then the speech of a small creature.

“Human pet? Have you seen Mr. Squeekles anywhere? I cannot seem to find him.”

Jaina sat up, glancing over the end of her bed. Sure enough, the little TzRek-Jad was there, looking up at her with wide golden eyes. Close behind him she could see Thorn, the cat, silky purple fur matching the color of her hair exactly.

“I beg your _purr_ -don, fire boy,” Thorn put in, “but she is _my_ human. I adopted her first.”

TzRek-Jad growled and did his best to glare at her, but he still looked more adorable than fearsome. “I could crush you easily, tiny furball. When I reach my full size, it will be quite clear who has the rightful claim to the human.”

“Oh, you foolish kit, go search for your silly toy. You probably dropped it under the kitchen table again.” Stretching, Thorn leapt up onto the bed and curled up beside Jaina. “Something isn’t right with you, I can tell. You haven’t given me a belly rub, or even petted any of us lately.”

Jaina sighed and shook her head. “I know, I know… it’s just… well, everything, really. As if losing the god of my childhood wasn’t enough to have to deal with… now my childhood home might be destroyed too, and I can’t do anything about it! I don’t know what to do anymore!”

She buried her face in her pillow, letting the tears flow freely. She wasn’t supposed to feel so helpless, so powerless! And what would her pets even understand of the matter?

“You’re watering,” TzRek-Jad remarked. “Just like the world outside your cave… Why are you watering? It’s… frightening.”

“Don’t be rude, little one,” Thorn hissed, and then softly nuzzled Jaina’s hand. “Purr, don’t just give up. When I first adopted you, you said you were going to do things. I might not be much help meow, but there must be someone who will be! Perhaps you should talk to someone who could help, a fellow human perchance, and bring back some fish when you’re through?”

Jaina glanced at her purple cat through tear-stained eyes. “I considered that… I don’t know who I could turn to, though…”

Drying her tears, she stood up and went to get her bag. “Maybe I need to focus on something else before I find the answers… Hmmm, I’ve gotten skilled enough at divining to visit that third wisp colony… Oh, and I remember that Soran wanted to see me about something. Another little task, perhaps?”

“Just make sure you bring back some fish.” Thorn gazed hopefully up at her. “Oh, and some fruit as well. Strawberry has been trying to raid the larder when you’re away.”

“I can keep that smelly troll under control,” TzRek-Jad insisted. “Do be careful with all that water out there, little human pet!”

Jaina pulled her overcoat on and then carefully slung her bag over her shoulder. “I think I’ll manage… I kind of have to.”

~***~

After walking a fair way through the rain, she found Soran at his usual post near the west bank in Varrock, leaning against a small house. He seemed to have conjured some kind of umbrella over his head—how did he do that, she wondered? Could he possibly teach her?

Soran straightened up as he spotted her coming. “Good to see you again, Jaina. Why don’t we talk somewhere drier?”

He opened the door and quickly ushered her into the empty house. She was glad to get out of the rain—her dress and overcoat were completely soaked through, her hair was dripping, her shoes were full of water, and it was quite cold.

The masked emissary followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. “You recall those three relics you helped to find? I’ve made good use of them—here, you deserve this. Perhaps one day you can wear it proudly to show your allegiance to the cause.”

Reaching into a bag, he carefully pulled out a large silvery helm. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Jaina looked it over as she accepted it. She wasn’t sure she could wear this thing… it was too big for her head, it would hide her hair and mess it up, and her head would get sticky and sweaty if she wore it for a long time. She wasn’t going to tell Soran that, though—that would be horribly rude.

“Thank you,” she said, tucking it carefully into her bag. “It’s… it’s a fine piece of craftsmanship indeed. I will take good care of it.”

She took a moment to wring out her pigtails. “Um… How has the preaching been going? Do you need me to do anything else?”

Soran shook his head. “Not at the moment. There may be other duties for the cause that the others will need you for, though. And I’m afraid not many have paid me heed yet, but we must be patient.”

He pulled up a chair and motioned for her to sit down. “You seem troubled. Is there something on your mind?”

Jaina blinked and eyed him as she sat. “Um… well…”

“There’s no need to fear.” Soran set his staff down on the nearby table and pulled up a chair for himself. “You can discuss whatever’s on your mind as you wish—I will listen.”

Jaina hesitated a moment, a lump rising in her throat. It took her a couple moments before she finally spoke up.

“You know about the battle raging on in Lumbridge? That’s where I grew up... it’s a place very dear to me. Stupid Saradomin and Zamorak already destroyed the old empire, and now they’re destroying my hometown for the sake of their rivalry… and I can’t do anything about it! On top of that, the Godless faction thinks they own me, too!”

Taking a deep breath, she let it all spill out and told him everything—how much she worried for the duke and the townspeople, how her stupid brother had joined Zamorak’s army and expected her to join him, about the Godless looking for her, how she was worried that either side would try to blackmail her into fighting for them—possibly by using innocent people as hostages or meat shields, how she couldn’t dare openly defy either of the gods.

When she was finished, she hung her head. “I don’t know what to do… I feel so… so powerless, so helpless. I’m not supposed to be helpless… I’m supposed to help those who need it! Especially now, with Guthix gone… I should be there now, assisting the duke and the citizens, and not being blackmailed into joining the stupid battle!”

She sighed, still not looking up, shivering from her cold, wet clothing. How she wished there were a fire in the fireplace… or that she had brought along fire runes.

The next few minutes passed in silence, Soran resting his chin in his hand. He had always been hard to read, what with that strange mask, but he did appear to be thinking things over.

At last, after what seemed like almost a full hour, he spoke.

“You truly care for the good of your hometown. You were wise enough to think the matter over and consider the consequences of your decisions, instead of recklessly rushing into things. This will not be the first difficult decision you will have to make, Jaina—and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“I-I know.” She looked up at him, blinking a few times. “I do not share Guthix’s vision of a godless Gielinor, but I’m still World Guardian now. I have to take responsibility for the world, for the greater good of our cause and for everyone… but it already seems like too much for me to keep up with…”

Soran shook his head. “Do not lose hope—you will never be alone. The others and I cannot help put a stop to the battle, I’m afraid… but Zaros will always watch over you, as well as Lumbridge. Keep it in your prayers, and trust in the Empty Lord’s guidance. He has an important plan, one that I do not fully understand, but I do know it does not involve senseless destruction like this petty squabble.”

He pulled his chair slightly closer to hers. “You’re not entirely powerless to do anything, either. There may well be something you can do, even if you worry about going to Lumbridge. Why don’t you write to the duke, and keep up correspondence with him so that you know the state of the town? You could then send money or useful things, impart advice to the duke if he asks, or offer to guide any refugees to a safer place. When the battle subsides, you can go there and help with any reconstructions that need to be done.”

Jaina was already nodding. “Why didn’t I think of that before? Of course, I’ll have to magically seal my letters so that they don’t get intercepted…”

“You won’t have to worry too much,” Soran said, his voice sounding slightly amused. “The postal skull is very good at guarding the mail he carries—and at teleporting efficiently.”

Jaina curiously blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Soran slowly nodded. “The other faction emissaries have a habit of trying to intercept one anothers’ letters—and I will admit, I have attempted to do so myself. I must commend the postal skull for his vigilance on duty.”

He stood up once more and picked up his staff. “Perhaps it may seem that you can’t do much—I’m sure you wish you could somehow get both pretender gods out of your hometown immediately. If only such a thing were possible, indeed… Still, even a small thing can make a world of difference. You will make more of an impact from indirect assistance than from doing nothing!”

Jaina was rather surprised, not only at how helpful Soran had turned out to be, but at how she was feeling now. He hadn’t provided an easy magical fix or anything—not that she had expected one—but she did at least feel less powerless now, and at least now she knew there was something she could reasonably do. It might not be enough, but Soran was right—it was better than doing nothing.

“Thank you, Soran,” she said, slowly rising from her chair. “I will make sure to contact the duke right away—I still wish I could help more directly, but something is something.”

“It was no problem. I do not just proclaim the ways of Zaros—I also wish to help guide the faithful.” Soran gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “If anything else ever troubles you and you have no one else to turn to, I will be willing to listen.”

Jaina couldn’t help but smile. “Th-thank you again… I don’t know how to repay you…”

The masked emissary shook his head. “It is payment enough to have you as a loyal ally and friend.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly as her thoughts turned to a certain beautiful shirt—one she very much intended to wear when she had the chance. Soran certainly wasn’t the first Zarosian to tell her that… but that was a matter that would have to wait until she’d written to and heard back from the duke.

~***~

The soft blue glow of the wisps provided the only light in the darkness of the evening. The sun had already set, and the distant lights of Varrock were faint in the torrential rain.

Jaina had lost track of how long she had been chasing them for. She was only half focused on harvesting them anyway, and she barely noticed the rain anymore—she was too busy thinking about the duke’s reply to her letter.

It had been a relief to know that there were no civilian casualties yet, but most of the duke’s report had not been good. The treasury was limited, the entire outer west wall of the castle was destroyed, several farms and many other buildings—including the school—had been leveled as well, food was running low, and several citizens were without homes. The rain had also caused some flooding along the River Lum, which had swept away a few unlucky goblins.

On a more positive note, the duke had mentioned that many of the homeless citizens had been evacuated to Dorgesh-Kaan for the time being, but Jaina wasn’t sure quite what to make of that. Some of the people might be frightened or angry, or they wouldn’t take to having to live underground well, or they might have HAM sympathies, or the Dorgeshuun might not have enough food, living space, or bathrooms to handle them all.

Kneeling beside the glowing rift, she reached into her bag and pulled out three sapphires, spreading them out on her skirt. She glanced at the strands of energy in her hand for a moment before carefully taking a small bit to weave.

As she wove the strands, forming a large emerald from the sapphires, she thought about how she might respond to the duke. He had mentioned that he was thinking of restoring a few damaged houses for the sake of refugees, as well as expanding his own private army to help defend the town. She would have to carefully consider what she might advise, as well as what sort of resources she might send. Should she send along more money, a few food packages, some simple construction materials, or even some homemade weapons? Could she allow the use of her family’s old house as a temporary living space? Her brother was technically the current owner, so that was more of his decision to make…

She did have some time to think about it, at least. She wanted to decide once she returned home this evening, so she could send off the letter before bed and make a list of what resources to send. The sooner she replied, the better.

Oh, how she hoped the battle would end sooner rather than later! Once it did, she would be there right away, ready to help restore the town however she could.

Finally through with transmuting the last of her sapphires, Jaina rose and started to follow another wisp. Before she could catch it, she spotted the silhouette of a Digsite night shift worker walking by, carrying an umbrella and a cart full of dirt.

Seeing the familiar ancient ruins, she shot up straighter, her eyes wide in realization.

“Oh blast it,” she muttered, “I completely forgot!”

She wanted to hit her head against the nearest tree for her foolishness. Even when she had figured out how she could do her duty to help her hometown, she had still been remiss in her other duties—how could she have forgotten something so important, especially after talking to Soran? Maybe focusing so much on divination in hopes it might take her mind off the battle hadn’t been such a good idea.

Quickly slinging her bag over her shoulder, the young World Guardian took off running towards the ruins through the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I made use of an emissary! There's a lot that's mysterious about Soran, which is kind of fitting for the emissary of Zaros! Well, even if he doesn't reveal much about himself, he could at least be a good listener, yes?
> 
> I realized that Jaina would have many more reasons than religious allegiance not to fight in the Battle of Lumbridge when I thought about it... I was kind of trying to get across that the events of The World Wakes and the Sixth Age kicking off in full swing kind of broke her brain for a little while. That would be a bit much for anyone to deal with, don't you think?
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!


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